


The Tempest

by koteosa



Series: Apprentice Kamui [2]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: AFAB Asra (The Arcana), Fluff, Mutual Pining, Other, Pre-Canon, Shy Asra
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21870064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koteosa/pseuds/koteosa
Summary: The story of how Asra met the apprentice, and fell in love with him.Prequel story to The Fool, but that is not required reading to understand this fic by itself.
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Asra (The Arcana)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Apprentice Kamui [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1575559
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi it's me again I promise I'm still working on The Fool but I'm incapable of only working on a single project at a time and this one in particular is one I've reread like 30 times bc I enjoy it so much and I haven't felt the need for much editing so like... even if I never finish this it's still enjoyable? I think? Chapters are gonna be shorter here, though, I'm seperating this based on passages I think go together bc this was originally meant as a oneshot but I got carried away (as usual)
> 
> If you intend on reading The Fool I recommend doing that before you read this, at least up to chapter 13 (Death), but if you don't care at all or already have then y'know I'm not your dad I can't tell you what to do (here's a link, though: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18787123)
> 
> The apprentice in this is an established character and you will have trouble self/oc-inserting by changing his name or whatever. I draw a lot of art of him which you can find here: https://toyhou.se/4037168.kamui

The ballroom is expansive and full of masked masquerade attendees, some dancing, others lingering off to the side, chatting or sampling the various treats laid out on the banquet table. He feels a little out of his element, but it isn't hard to get used to it. Everyone is focused on themselves, hardly bothering those around them, and there isn't much push or pull to the crowd. These were calm waters, easy to wade through without getting sucked into the whirlpools.

He wanders alone, a curious magician amongst a faceless crowd. There's a lot to see, a lot to try, a lot to experience, and it didn't matter if he had to do it alone. It wasn't like he could possibly convince Muriel to show up for something like this.

Asra explores the banquet table, searching for something to sample. There's a treat resembling a miniature plum cake with a colorful tentacle bursting through the frosting, and it exceeds expectations. He reaches for it only for his hand to brush against someone else's, and he pulls away in an instant, glancing apologetically at the person next to him.

A man with fluffy, snowy hair and a mask in the shape of a white spotted leopard stares back at him with round, vivid red eyes. His skin is almost as pale as the white of his mask, and his costume, skin tight yet flowing and comfortable all at once, perfectly reflect his natural colors.

A chesire cat's grin spreads across his face, eyes flickering along Asra's frame, seemingly finding something interesting. Without a word, he reaches for the bizarre dessert, maintaining eye contact as he pops some of it into his mouth, chewing slowly and sensually. Brows shooting up in surprise, Asra stares, transfixed at the sight of his pale, glossy lips. The man swallows the treat with a delicious lick of his lips, before turning gracefully and vanishing into the crowd.

Asra stares after the man long after he's disappeared from view, stunned. Warmth blossoms along the skin below his mask.

  
  
  
  


Somewhere in the dimly lit hallways of the masquerade, where not a single guest appears to linger, heeled footsteps rapidly approach from behind mere moments before a body crashes into him. Adjusting his now lopsided fox mask, he turns, catching sight of the leopard-masked attendee from the banquet table. His cheeks are flushed red, chest heaving with heavy breaths. When their eyes catch there's a flash of recognition, but no time for words to be exchanged.

Another set of footsteps, aggressively louder and hastier, approach from the same direction, and the leopard masked man glances back before grabbing Asra's wrist, dragging him towards the nearest wall. A gloved hand presses into a specific spot, depressing a hidden panel that causes a section of the wall to turn, taking both of them with it.

They're left in a dark corridor, nothing but dim torchlight to illuminate their surroundings. It's a tight fit, and the mysterious man pulls a very confused Asra tight against his body, a hand pressed over his mouth.

Outside, the unmistakable sound of Count Lucio's nasal voice echoes through the hall, roaring furiously in search of "that magician". Unable to find them, the Count's footsteps trudge down the entire length of the hallway, vanishing around a corridor.

As soon as the sound dissipates, the man bursts into a fit of excited giggles, reactivating the secret entrance to let them back out into the hallway. He doubles over, clutching his sides.

"Ohhh, he  _ hates _ me," the man says between peals of laughter.

Wide-eyed and curious, Asra glances between the other end of the hallway, where the Count disappeared off to, and the stranger giggling like mad right in front of him. "What did you do?"

The man starts to recover, maneuvering a hand up under his mask to wipe away a tear. "Not much. I just flung some food at his face. Nearly got him in the eye, wasn't so lucky though."

Asra gapes at him, a little impressed. "In front of all of his guests?" he asks, eyes dancing. Delighted, he adds, "Did you ruin his makeup?"

The man pulls up to his full height—which was maybe two inches shorter than Asra—with a wide grin, mischief glinting in his eyes. He laughs, "I wish. I kinda wanted to get it in his hair, just,  _ really _ stuck in there. Maybe they'd have to cut it out."

A grin pulls at Asra's lips without him noticing. "And you're not afraid he'll try and have you arrested?"

The man nearly chokes on a laugh. "Are you kidding? Arrest  _ me _ ? He'll have to catch me first." Shaking his head, he points to his mask, saying, "Besides, he doesn't even know who I am with this mask on. Because there's just  _ so many _ people that look like me."

Asra frowns. "He called you 'that magician'," he points out. "How would he know you're a magician if he doesn't recognize you?"

"Oh, that. Well, that's probably because I changed the food's trajectory mid-air. Oh, and I had glitter burst out on impact." He pantomimes the glitter explosion on his cheek with a wicked grin. "Ohhh, he was so  _ mad _ . Completely worth it."

He can't help it; Asra smiles back, just as amused by the image of Lucio, humiliated in front of all his guests. "Lucio deserves much worse than that," Asra says, eyes narrowed into a playful grin, which the leopard masked man mirrors.

"Oh? Got any ideas?"

Asra hums, "A few."

  
  
  
  


The two crouch behind the railing on the balcony overlooking the courtyard, where the Count has wound up in search of his assailant. Thanks to the crowd of people already present, Lucio's attention has been drawn away from the prank completely, his attention seeking in full effect.

"What's the plan?"

"Watch," Asra says, directing his gaze down to the fountain, where Lucio is standing precariously close.

Focusing his magic on the fountain's water, he manages to form a vaguely humanoid shape over the top, which quickly lashes out with two sets of arms to wrap around Lucio, dragging him into the water. The resulting splash flies onto several other guests, but none end up anywhere near as damp as Lucio, now soaked head-to-toe.

Next to him, the masked man is giggling uncontrollably behind his hand, his other grasping onto Asra's sleeve, tugging, as if to say,  _ 'Did you see that?'  _ But as amusing—and hugely gratifying—a sight as it is, Asra finds his gaze often fixed more on the man next to him than on Lucio.

Unfortunately, it doesn't take long for Lucio to notice them, except this time, he calls for the guards.

"Uh oh," the masked man says, but even he doesn't sound the least bit afraid. Rather, he sounds amused, maybe even excited, like this was just a challenge. A fun game. Not the risk of imprisonment and potential public execution.

His confidence is strangely infectious, putting Asra more at ease.

A hand wraps around his wrist and tugs him away from the balcony. With a well-practiced ease the man vaults over the other end of the railing, dragging Asra down with him. However, rather than fall into a mess of broken limbs, they float delicately, smooth silk fabrics billowing in the breeze. An arm wraps around Asra's lower back as the man guides their trajectory like he's done this a million times before, and the second their shoes touch the ground, they're off again, deeper inside the garden, where it's hard to keep track of them.

Somehow, they end up back inside the palace proper, with anyone who might have been after them long gone. Asra is panting, his chest heaving under the strain of so much movement; the masked man beside him is only having slightly less trouble, a wide grin on his face masking his discomfort.

"That was incredible," he says, after catching his breath. His ruby eyes are glimmering as he looks up at Asra, who feels his heart beat even faster in response. "I don't think I've ever done a spell like that from so far away."

Asra's face warms under the praise.

They wind up back in the midst of the party proper, in a room full of various performances of different kinds. The masked man's eyes linger on the sight of a performer swallowing swords, before quickly becoming distracted by a pair of fire dancers.

The stranger's hand is still wrapped around his wrist, Asra notices, staring down at his delicate silk gloves, tapering off right above the wrist. When he looks back up, scarlet irises are staring right back at him. With a curious curl of his soft pink lips, the man glides his hand down Asra's wrist, across the palm of his hand, twining their fingers together. The touch has Asra's heart hammering away in his chest, face burning hot, unable to do much more than stare down at their hands, before flicking his gaze back up to the man's face, red eyes dancing.

With a small smile the masked man raises Asra's hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back. Even through Asra's gloves, the touch lingers against his skin, halting his breathing. Encouraged, the man pulls Asra's hand against his bared chest, resting right over his heart.

"You're cute," he purrs, much to Asra's surprise. A delighted, toothy grin tugs at the man's lips, and he chuckles again before dragging Asra through the crowded space.

  
  
  
  


They're in a room with a nearly overflowing chocolate fountain, tables spread out in a circle around it filled to the brim with various treats for dipping. The man finds some sort of multicolored, spiked fruit to dip, and samples half of it before turning to Asra.

"You have to try this," he says, sparks dancing in his eyes. With a smile Asra turns to grab another of the fruits, only to be turned back around with a hand around his bicep. Suddenly the man is incredibly close, the other half of the fruit held between his teeth, nearly close enough for the chocolate to scrape off on Asra's bottom lip. The corners of his lips are turned up in a smirk.

Asra's heart nearly stops on the spot. He's trembling as the man inches in a bit closer, the fruit pressing into his bottom lip. The smile on his face vanishes, expression morphing into something seductive, which is so much worse. Panicking, Asra parts his lips, quickly biting down on the fruit and turning away, covering his mouth as he pops the treat inside.

The masked man is chuckling, but it doesn't sound mocking. Rather, the low, sultry tones of his voice send prickles of heat down Asra's body. "Shy, aren't you?" he coos. "Cute."

He doesn't try it again, but it doesn't put a stop to his behavior, otherwise.

After sampling everything to their interest inside the chocolate fountain room, they wander the halls again, looking for something fun. "Anything you want to try?" the masked man asks.

Asra hums in thought. "I keep hearing something about a bubble room?"

The smile on the masked man's face turns absolutely wicked. "Oh, sweetheart, I thought you'd never ask," he purrs, grasping the hand of a bewildered Asra and leading him expertly through the halls.

Before long they arrive in a room filled with oversized bubbles, floating listlessly up towards the tall ceiling. There are people inside of them, some relaxing, others bouncing playfully into each other. One of the bubbles pop as they enter, and Asra receives a grin from his companion before being tugged over to the magician in charge of the whole thing.

"One, please," he politely requests, and the magician glances over the two before nodding. The leopard masked man turns to Asra, tugging him closer by the hips, bringing their bodies almost close enough to touch. "Hold onto me, okay, sweet thing?"

Bemused and more than a little bit flustered, Asra does exactly that, wrapping his arms around the man's shoulders, but finding it hard to look him in the eyes as he does so. The man doesn't share this problem at all, unabashedly staring while the magician casts a bubble around them. It gently urges them into a more compact, sitting position, too loose and slow to be anything but perfectly comfortable.

Asra leans back against the bubble, feeling some sort of liquid brushing up against his skin. It reminds him of dew on blades of grass, making it easy to relax. Which he needs severely, as the mysterious stranger is in the bubble with him; the bubble that seemed more fit for one person than two.

If they position themselves just right, they can sit separate from one another, minus some tangling of limbs. But the masked man clearly has no intentions of doing that, as he drapes himself over Asra's chest, nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder with a small, pleased sound. Despite being in the bubble with him, the sound is muffled, like it's being made underwater.

The man seems to understand this perfectly well, as he remains silent, cuddling close to Asra with a content smile on his face. It takes a moment before Asra is able to relax under him, unused to snuggling with someone of his size. He usually wasn't on the bottom, either, nor was his partner someone so... enthusiastic.

He allows himself a little indulgence; the stranger was already doing that, anyway. It was only fair.

Tugging his gloves off, he threads his fingers into the stranger's snowy hair, feeling the soft, silky strands. It draws a small sound from the man's throat, something surprised, but not unpleasantly so. His hair is just so wispy and soft that Asra can't help but want to touch it more, growing bold with his exploration.

It's so relaxing, that he doesn't notice the man above him has started outright  _ purring _ for quite awhile.

The man tugs one of his gloves off with his teeth, before sliding it down the full length of Asra's available arm until their hands meet, twining their fingers together. He keeps them like that, clasped above Asra's head, the back of his hand cool against the side of the bubble.

Asra feels he could fall asleep like this.

(Nevermind that he could fall asleep pretty much anywhere, at any given time.)

It's utterly peaceful the entire time they're up there. It's hard to tell how long it was; part of Asra thinks he might have fallen asleep at some point. But once they're on their feet again, the leopard masked man throws himself at Asra, curling his legs to force the magician to support his weight. Asra manages it without much issue.

Pale hands thread into the back of Asra's hair, none-too-shy about any of it. "You should be careful, sweet thing. Touch my hair like that again and I might fall in love," the man whispers, pressing a kiss right over the shell of Asra's ear and sending a shiver down his spine. Setting his heels back down on the ground, the man giggles.

Asra's heart pounds so harshly against the confines of his chest that he feels it might burst. And he realizes, after letting this stranger, whose name he doesn't even know, whose face he's never even seen, lead him into yet another room full of magic and wonder and just a hint of danger and romanticism, that he might have just become like putty in this stranger's hands.

  
  
  


The sky is turning several different shades, from the midnight blue overheard to the pale pinks, yellows, and blues of the rising sun. Asra finds it difficult to recognize his own exhaustion with all the excitement going on, a gloved hand wrapped around his tugging him along outside the palace walls. There's a wide array of colorful tents and stands set up right outside, selling masks, costumes, and the like.

Despite that, Asra finds his gaze directed more to the man at his side. Observing the soft flutter of his eyelashes, like the pale wings of a dove. His soft, fluffy hair, with a long, errant strand dangling against his shoulder, decorated with golden bands that melodically clack together as he walks. Watching the way his rosy lips curl, his upper lip a bit thicker than the lower. His head turns to the side and Asra realizes he's been caught staring, but the stranger doesn't seem to mind it at all. If anything, he seems like he expected it, ruby eyes narrowing deviously.

Quickening his pace, the man tugs him along to the edge of the street, ducking between two buildings where no one else is hanging around. With no warning at all Asra's back hits a wall, and the man is stepping in close,  _ very _ close, their faces merely inches apart. Something amusing must be showing through on Asra's face because the man's lips quirk into a smile, letting out a low, almost husky chuckle.

"You're very cute, you know?"

_ No _ , he wants to say, but he's not so sure he's capable of speech anymore. Smooth silk glides over his wrists, pulling them up over his head, fingers curling around his hands. The man leans in closer, his smile vanishing, breaths hot on Asra's lips. He finds himself rooted to the spot, unable to hear over the sound of his own heart beating. All he can think about is how soft the man's lips look, imagining how they must feel against his, and for several long, agonizing moments he's sure he'll get to find out.

Until the stranger pulls away, smiling devilishly as he takes several steps back into the alleyway. Without his hands wrapped around Asra's, he feels at a loss, like he can't stand properly without them, just barely managing to stop from falling to his knees and making a fool of himself.

The stranger looks back over his shoulder, red meeting violet as he says, "I'll tell you what. If you can recognize me without my mask on, maybe we can go a bit further than that, hmm?"

And with that, the stranger disappears around the corner, his stride elegant and poised, curls lightly bouncing as he walks. Asra remains staring after where he once was until his eyes glaze over.

It feels strange to move on from that. To go back to his tent, undress, and curl up on his pillows like nothing happened. Everything feels like a dream, less real and more trance-like. Once he's dressed more comfortably and curled up in the various colorful fabrics that make up his makeshift bed, he realizes he doesn't even remember changing clothes. Or coming home. He'd been too stuck in his own head for any of it to actually register.

Not unusual, but... he usually wasn't getting caught up in thoughts of another person like this. He didn't think about what their lips must taste like, or how warm their skin would feel if he ran his hands over them. He definitely wasn't this interested in learning more about them; what kind of tea did he like? Did he have a familiar? What did his aura look like? What did he do for fun, what did he like, what did he hate?

Despite how his eyes burn, he finds himself just staring, blank, out at the patterns on the rug, barely visible in the low lighting of the sun seeping in past the tent's multicolored walls. For once in his life, he finds he has no desire to sleep whatsoever.


	2. Chapter 2

The masquerade comes to a close days later. Asra had yet to see the familiar, red-eyed stranger again, despite frequent visits to the palace. It's hard not to be disappointed; strange, to be so stuck on this, when it wasn't the first and certainly wouldn't be the last time he met someone interesting, only to never see them again afterwards.

Although the platonic interactions he'd had up to this point certainly didn't compare to this.

It's in the middle of packing up his tent that Asra realizes he's been zoning out for the last several minutes, a pillow clutched in his arms. Held tight against his chest. Cool with the remnants of the chilly night air, not at all like _him_ , warm and animated and alive, and…

His heart rate picks up, body warming down to his fingertips. In a daze he gathers up his meager belongings, the spells required to take down his tent coming naturally, like breathing.

A twig snaps under his boot before he comes back into himself. His mind had been so busy replaying the events of that night that he hadn't paid attention to anything else, body running on autopilot. It was late enough in the day now that the summer heat was making his already warmed body borderline dizzy. He blinks rapidly, struggling to focus on anything else.

The stock of masks inside his tent had sold out in only two days. That left the rest of his time open to actually attending the masquerade, and after the first night, he couldn't keep himself away. But now that all of that was gone, he had no interest in staying in the city any longer. Beyond all the… distracting thoughts, he was swelling with pride. His closest friend's hard work had paid off, and he couldn't be happier to see how popular Muriel's masks had been.

Belatedly, he realizes he should've prepared something special. From his own funds, of course. The thought brings a crease to his brow, realizing how distracted he'd been, and by something so…

He didn't even have a word for it. For any of it.

Shaking his head softly, he continues onwards.

  
  
  
  


The air grows crisp deeper into the fall, and he finds himself consumed by his newest habit; gazing blankly into space, this time to watch the crackling fire before him as he warms his body. But the dissociation wasn't new, no, that had been a part of him for nearly his whole life, only growing more frequent with age.

The part that was new were the fantasies of a beautiful, graceful man caressing him, speaking low into his ear and sending shivers down his spine. Imagining the way his lips must feel against any—no, _every_ part of him, troubling him with an ache of longing for someone whose name he didn't even know, who he had yet to even catch a hint of since their first night together.

His arms wrap tight around his own body, hidden beneath the fur cloaking his frame. This was an odd feeling, but not one he'd never felt before. Certainly the first that was so directed, a desire to be held by someone who he could put a face to—or, at least, most of a face to. This hadn't happened since he was a child, missing the warmth of his parents' arms. But that would never happen again, and… sometimes he wondered if this infatuation would suffer the same fate.

It was silly. They'd only met once, but the man in the leopard mask had made such a lasting impression on him that he found himself lying awake, consumed with longing. Dreaming, and daydreaming, of those perfect red eyes, his rose tinted lips, his hair, so soft beneath Asra's fingertips. He wanted to be held like that again, like what they did in the bubble room.

It was almost frustrating how these thoughts refused to leave him alone.

He lets out a sigh. It's around then that the world starts to bleed back into focus, his senses growing sharper. It occurs to him he's leaning heavily to one side, a firm, hard presence next to him he's been resting his head on. Feeling lax from his recent daydream, his sits still for awhile, breathing deeply and staring at the flames, where Faust lays coiled up nearby.

Once he feels prepared to function in any way, he lifts himself back up. His arms find their way to Muriel's, lifting the man's massive arm and tucking himself underneath it, where he can rest his head against a bare chest. He feels Muriel's head turn by the way his long, wavy hair shifts.

"Cold?" Muriel asks, voice only as loud and energetic as it needs to be; in other words, not very.

Curling in closer, Asra presses himself tight against the man's body. "Yeah," he lies. In actuality, his craving for human contact was intense, putting a strange, fluttery feeling in his stomach that was getting to be too much to handle. And yet he knows this won't even help. Muriel won't hold him the way he needs to be held. His grip was far too loose, settling around Asra's lower back like an added blanket. As expected, it does nothing to quell the fire burning inside of him.

Sometimes he wondered if he was cursed, if the stranger from the masquerade had pulled him under a spell there was no hope of curing. Other times, like now, he realized how silly that was. This feeling had pervaded his life for years, practically as long as he could remember. He dreamed of kissing and longed for arms wrapping around his body, fantasized of a person who would make his heart flutter, anyone who could make him feel loved.

This, cuddling before the fire with Muriel, this wasn't it. It was nice, it was warm, but it wasn't _him_ , and—oh, but if it could be. That would be enough, he thinks, a warm body, a beating heart, held tight with his face tucked into someone's shoulder, nose brushing their neck, feeling their pulse jump against his lips.

For now, the best he could hope for was to ever catch a glimpse of that man again, much less dream of holding him before a fire, sharing body heat and trading kisses. His heart races at the thought of it.

  
  
  
  


He returns to the city, setting up his booth on the outskirts of the Center City marketplace. Far enough out to avoid how noisy and crowded the market typically got on any one day, but close enough to attract attention from passersby.

Regardless of the tactic, his booth garners a lot of regulars. Not quite as many customers overall as he would have otherwise hoped, and even less than he was used to getting normally, but it was enough that his fortune telling booth isn't a total waste. What the issue was, he couldn't be sure; his magic kept the booth warmer than the streets outside it, so it wasn't like setting up business in mid-April was so risky.

Whatever the reason is, it doesn't really matter. Pulling his red scarf on even tighter over the matching, embroidered coat, he steps outside to light the lantern, the flames burning a bright blue, and steps back inside to start the day.

It's midafternoon, and he's in the middle of reading a young woman's palm when someone new pokes their head inside the tent, glancing curiously around. He doesn't pay them much mind, focusing on his current task until he's finished. The woman thanks him before offering up her payment, happily scurrying off afterwards.

Before Asra even gets the chance to so much as glance in the newcomer's direction, they're seating themself across from him, legs folded off to one side on the plush, blue and violet pillow set up for customers. A low table rests between them, a crystal ball in the center with room for card readings on all sides.

"So, Magician. They say you're the real deal," comes the crystal clear, almost airy voice that had been occupying Asra's thoughts, sleeping and waking, for the last several months. The sound sends a shiver down his spine, and he has to resist the urge to gawk, tucking away his last customer's payment before casually turning to face his next.

And _god_ but he was beautiful. Judging by the way he smiles, like some type of fox, he knows damn well exactly how he looks. Wearing a loose-sleeved, red and white tunic with a red wool sash wrapped tight around his shoulders and torso, tight white pants and thigh-length boots tipped with fur, he twirls a finger through his hair, drawing attention to the ruby earrings clipped into his ears. Asra tries not to stare too long at any one part of him; although his legs were certainly calling to him.

He just barely remembers to smile as he greets the newcomer. "I suppose you'll have to find out, won't you?" he replies, impressed to find his voice coming out completely level. Seeing the stranger again had thrown him for a loop; he only hopes he can remember how to do his job properly. "Can I offer you a reading?"

"Do you do tarot?" the stranger asks, leaning forward on the table with a casual ease.

Showing off a little, Asra conjures the deck in his hands, automatically setting to shuffling the cards with a few of the more complex maneuvers he knows. There's a smug smirk on his lips at the sight of the stranger's surprised, but impressed look, which quickly melts into something equally as mischievous. "Looking for a daily fortune?" Asra asks.

The stranger hums. "How about a love reading?"

Asra's hands falter, one of the cards slipping free before he can correct himself. Amusement tugs at the stranger's lips as Asra quickly corrects himself, spotting the upright ten of cups that had fallen into his lap and pretending the implication doesn't freak him out. Quickly sliding it back into the deck, he fixes a polite smile on his face and asks, "Have you got anything specific in mind?"

"I met someone recently," the stranger says, leaning on one hand while the other idly draws swirls into the table.

"At the masquerade?"

Soft pink lips part with interest, smile turning devious. "My, now, how did you know that? Don't tell me the cards are speaking to you already."

"Lots of people meet at the masquerade," Asra says, avoiding voicing the real reason why. "It wasn't that long ago." The stranger's promise echoes in his mind, sending his anxiety skyrocketing. "Call it a lucky guess."

The stranger hums, eyes raking appreciatively down Asra's form, from the thin, gold band around his neck to the visible skin beneath his coat, unbuttoned just enough in the tent's heat to let a sliver show through. His gaze has Asra feeling warm in more than just his face. He considers popping a few more buttons, before realizing that would make it worse.

"You must get a lot of business," the stranger comments. "A handsome fortune-teller like you… one can only imagine the attention you'd attract."

Hands trembling around the card deck, Asra's lips thin, eyes flickering down to where the stranger's pale finger circles the cloth covering the low table. Why was it so hot in here? His spell must have gotten too strong.

"I don't know about that," Asra dismisses. "Are you looking for a compatibility reading? Or maybe you want to know more about this person?"

"That second option would just ruin all the fun of discovery, don't you think?" the stranger asks. Tilting his head to one side in a show of pondering, he hums. Asra's eyes trace the shape of his aquiline nose. "Maybe you could tell me what this person thinks of me."

"A five card spread would—"

"Do you really need the cards to tell you that…? Don't you know the answer already?"

Swallowing thickly, Asra glances up from his cards to the intense gaze being leveled at him. "So," he manages to say, heart thudding in his ears, his casual grin growing impossibly hard to maintain, "You're talking about me, then?"

Asra inhales sharply through his nose as the stranger sits up on his knees, crawling to the other side of it, eyes locked with the magician. Once he's kneeling before the magician, he leans in close, boxing Asra in with his arms propped up on the pile of pillows behind him. Swallowing thickly, Asra finds himself pressing back against the pillows, intimidated as he stares up at the beauty before him.

"And what _do_ you think of me?" the stranger prompts, his voice low, sultry. For a moment, Asra doesn't remember how to speak a single one of the languages he's learned over the years, lips parting as he gazes up at the man's face, taking in his elegant features, his soft porcelain skin and the dazzling, crystalline pattern of his ruby red eyes. His tongue feels too big for his mouth, throat tight, words escaping him.

"I… I remember you. From the masquerade," he eventually says, voice thick with anxiety. It wasn't really an answer, but it appeases the stranger anyway, a pleased smile gracing his glossy, rose pink lips.

"Good. Because I remember you, and what nice memories those are," the man says, his voice lowered to a near-whisper. The smile fades as he leans in closer, eyes focused entirely on the line of Asra's lips. "You look even more beautiful without the mask on. It's getting me a little…" he trails off with a flirtatious chuckle, tilting his head with a smile.

The implication is clear, and has Asra flustering, pressing as tight into the pillows as he could possibly get. His heart races, as does his mind, leaving him feeling overheated and dizzy. "I don't even know your name."

The stranger is getting even closer, leaning fully on the hand opposite Asra to trail the back of his fingers down his cheek, gentle, the contrast in temperature between them starkly apparent. There's a coy smile on his face as he says, "It's Kamui, sweet thing."

Asra rolls over the name in his head, repeating and committing it to memory. It sounds sweet to him, like some kind of candy or dessert. "Kamui," he repeats, testing out the pronunciation on his tongue. For whatever reason, it wipes the smile off of Kamui's face, a light blush spreading over the bridge of his nose and across his cheeks, eyes round. Asra couldn't be sure why—had he said it wrong? He was pretty sure he hadn't, but…

"I think I like the sound of that," Kamui says, breathless. Asra has trouble believing him. There was nothing special about his voice. Kamui's voice, however… silky, sultry, smooth, it left Asra hanging off his every word, wondering what he'd say next.

The hand caressing his cheek lowers, smoothing over where his heart was beating sporadically in his chest. There was no way Kamui didn't notice. He brings their faces closer together, lips inches apart, breaths intermingling. With a quiet gasp Asra stops breathing entirely, causing Kamui to chuckle with a soft puff of air. His eyes fall closed in anticipation.

The moment draws out, leading Asra to wonder if Kamui was teasing, if he'd made a fool out of himself by acting like he _expected_ something. But then their lips brush ever-so-slightly, and it sends a powerful jolt of panic through Asra's systems. He jumps back, the deck falling from his hands and sprawling out everywhere in a chaotic array. His eyes dart to the cards, surprised; he had forgotten he was even holding them.

Eyes shifting back towards Kamui, he catches a hint of disappointment in the man's expression, but it's quickly replaced with amusement. That was easier to look at. It makes it easier to pretend he isn't immensely disappointed when Kamui sits back, straightening out his posture.

"I forgot how shy you are," he teases, with a playful quirk of his lips.

Asra fumbles with his words, in the end deciding it was better to remain silent. He felt like a total moron, internally berating himself as he moves to pick up his cards. It would've been easy to draw them back to him magically, had his nerves not been as frayed as they were. He feels clumsy and awkward in a way he hasn't in… maybe ever.

Kamui joins him, and he pauses, watching with bated breath as Kamui lifts a single card, turning it over to reveal it to himself. Whatever he sees is enough to have his lips parting in the shape of an O, brows raising. It's several seconds later that Kamui lifts his gaze to smile at Asra, waving his available hand and causing every stray card to drift into a neat pile, which shoots up to his palm like they belonged there.

Keeping the stray card close to his chest, Kamui smiles, coy. "This was _very_ informative," he purrs, setting the deck down on the table, followed closely by the upright ace of cups. Asra is almost too busy gaping at the card to notice it when Kamui stands, saying, "I'll see you again soon, Asra."

Blinking back to attention, his gaze snaps up to Kamui as he saunters off, disappearing behind the curtains. Once he's gone, Asra snatches up the ace of cups, focusing on its voice; utter silence. He tucks it back into the deck, wrapping his hands around it to neaten out the stack. He's left staring down at it, wondering. Curious, he draws the top card.

It's the ten of cups again. It drops from his trembling hand before he can learn anything more from it.

  
  
  
  


"Please sit down."

Startled, Asra blinks, willing his unfocused gaze to clear as he turns to the table nearby. Muriel sits atop one of the wooden stools at the table, staring at him with a disquieted brows. It doesn't register to Asra right away that he'd been pacing, radiating a nervous energy as he wandered to every corner of the tiny hut. Looking for anything to distract himself with, only to zone out entirely nearby, leaned back against the side of the hearth, a prisoner to his own thoughts.

A little embarrassed, Asra obediently sits down at the table nearby Muriel, leaning on his elbows while making sure not to take up too much space. Muriel had been busy on his latest project ever since Asra had come back to visit. It was a mask in the shape of an otter, or so it looked to Asra.

With a soft smile that he doesn't really feel, Asra says, "I would have thought you'd be over carving masks after the masquerade."

Muriel spares him a lingering glance, something all too wise and all too knowing in his watchful green-eyed gaze. Or maybe it was just the paranoia causing Asra to believe his friend could see right through him. Either way, he returns to the mask right afterwards, responding with nothing more than a vague grunt. Asra just stares, the sight of the wood chips curling as they're carved away putting his mind back into a trance.

Eventually Muriel sets the mask and his tools aside, rubbing the back of his neck with a large hand. Asra perks up.

"Let me give you—" he starts, only to be cut off by Muriel's stern gaze, a brow raised in question. He sinks back down, lips thinning.

With a soft, barely audible sigh, Muriel turns more in Asra's direction, expression impassive. "Something's on your mind," he says, perceptive as always. Asra thinks to voice as much, anything to distract from having to actually talk about it. But that never worked on Muriel, anyway, so there was no point in trying.

"Isn't there always," Asra laughs, gaze drifting off to the side, towards the in-progress mask.

Muriel doesn't respond, nor does his expression change in the slightest. Turning away from the magician, his eyes fall closed, the slow rise and fall of his chest indicating he'd taken a deep breath. After opening his eyes, he sets to tidying up the table, brushing the wood carvings into a small pile. Asra wastes no time in levitating the pile into the fire.

Silence settles comfortably around them, drawing Asra back into his thoughts. It's the sound of Muriel's voice that drags him back out of it, before he can fall too deeply into the recesses of his own mind.

"Do I want to know?" he asks.

Asra drums his fingers near-silently against the table, considering. Following an impulse, he asks, "How do you know if you've fallen in love with someone?"

The question causes Muriel to jolt like he'd just been struck in the back, his body stiffening, lips pressed so tightly together that they curled slightly into a pout. The reaction is odd, and only grows odder, the man's hands beginning to tremble before he can draw them in against his body, where Asra can't spot them beneath his cloak. The only explanation Asra can find is some sort of social anxiety; the both of them had little experience in these areas, Muriel even less. It must have been like they were both kids again, and Asra was asking him how sex works.

Eyes unfocused as his thoughts struggle to claim him yet again, he doesn't notice the way Muriel's throat bobs as he gulps nervously. "I," Muriel starts, clearly struggling with his words, eyes darting away in frustration as his lips part uselessly. Eventually, he asks, "Why?", while looking to Asra with such confusion in his panicked green eyes.

Asra laughs, gaze drifting off to the side. He leans his head on his arm, finger tracing the lines in the wood beneath his head. "I met someone recently, and I can't get him out of my head," he explains. "I've only seen him twice before."

"That's not love," Muriel says, frowning down at Asra with a look he has trouble interpreting; disapproval, or confusion, or perhaps something else. It didn't matter as much as his words themselves.

"You're right," Asra assents with a sigh, shifting to curl both his arms around each other, head resting in the middle. "But it's something, and it feels like torture."

"That's awful," Muriel comments, much to Asra's amusement. He can't help but laugh at the disgruntled look on his friend's face.

"I kinda like it," Asra finds himself saying, a little surprised by his own admission. Was that true? He wasn't so sure. It was all a little new and confusing. "But it leaves me wanting something more. I don't know what I should do about it, I can't focus anymore…"

"You couldn't before."

A startled laugh parts his lips. "You know me so well," Asra jokes, before turning his head to the side and staring at the wall nearby. A soft sigh escapes him. "Maybe I'm feeling too strongly. It's hard to tell."

It grows silent after that. He supposes Muriel must not have an answer this time, which makes two of them. It's understandable that Muriel wouldn't have the answers, and yet it's frustrating and stressful at the same time. Everything would be so easy if his friend could open his mouth and tell him exactly what to do, or even give him some vague wisdom he would have to interpret for himself. Anything.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to come out a lot sooner but I started second guessing the trajectory of this fic and my portrayal of the characters etc etc and it took a long while to get over it, legit I've had like 40k of this fic written for A While now but the brain goblins came out so, uh, sorry? hopefully I can start posting chapters more regularly, since they are, so short

The sun is setting as Asra steps outside his fortune telling tent, about to snuff out the lantern that signified his little makeshift business was open. The sky's changing colors catch his eye, hogging his attention until he hears a voice at his back, sounds that resemble his name a little too closely. Praying he isn't mistaken, he turns, not even considering the idea that there shouldn't be anyone behind him. All that was behind him was his tent and a building, hardly any space between them.

Yet his eyes land on a person as soon as he turns around, leaning out the windowsill of the building's second story, head in hands. Kamui's snowy hair flutters in the wind, gaze fixed on the magician, whose heart does a flip at the sight of him.

"Kamui?" he asks. Turning fully in the magician's direction, he takes several steps closer around the side of his tent. "What are you doing?"

"I was about to make some tea. Do you want to join me?" Kamui asks. Bemused, Asra glances between the white walls of the building before him and the man leaning outside of it. The sound of Kamui laughing locks his attention back on him. "You seem confused. You know that I live here, right?"

Asra blinks up at him. "I had no idea," he truthfully admits.

"Really? So I can cross that stealing-my-customers theory off the list, then," Kamui laughs. He leans out over the windowsill, an arm outstretched. "Come on. I have a wide selection, I'm sure there's something you'll like in here."

 _There's at least one thing I like in there already_ , Asra wishes he had the power to say. Instead, he steps over to the wall, planting a foot along the trim to climb up. The sound of Kamui chuckling gives him pause, and he tilts his head up, face heating.

"What are you doing? Aren't you a magician? Just float up," Kamui says, amusement dancing in his voice.

"Oh. Right," Asra stammers. Had he really forgotten that so easily? He had more than one spell he could have used, instead of trying to scale the side of a smooth, plaster building. All of those spells were practically second nature, and yet.

Kamui giggles, humored. "Hold on," he says. Obediently, Asra waits, watching as Kamui slams his hand down on the windowsill. At the exact time that his palm makes contact, a dull sound somewhat resembling a reverberating bell bursts at Asra's feet, and he suddenly finds himself hovering several inches off the ground, weightless. Gently, he floats upwards, coming within range for Kamui to grab his wrist and ease him inside the window.

The spell starts to fade as Asra climbs inside of his own accord, and Kamui takes several steps back to give him room. At least this part still comes naturally to him, easily and gracefully climbing through the open window.

Dropping to his feet, he glances around, finding himself in a colorful room with an assortment of mismatched chairs around a low table. There are lights dotting the walls that glow like little jars of fireflies, casting the area in a warm glow. There was a lot to see in the patterns of the rugs, the tablecloth, and the wallpaper, not to mention the various knick-knacks, books, and other oddities in shelves along the walls. It seemed as if nearly every space contained something new or interesting to look at.

It was also very clearly a kitchen, with a line of countertops, a very-full spice rack, and various cabinets. The design aesthetic of the area suggests Kamui must not live alone; hardly anything he saw looked like something the magician was into. It was all very chaotic in that way.

Asra was a big fan of it, but he was willing to hazard a guess that Kamui didn't share that opinion.

"Make yourself at home," Kamui says, a proud smile on his face as he gestures around the room. "Kick back, relax, maybe take off some of these," he flicks a finger across Asra's coat, "Extraneous layers. I won't mind."

Asra turns slightly red at the suggestion, and Kamui grins, turning gracefully towards the counters. Shrugging his jacket off, he begins searching for a place to sit, while Kamui digs through the cabinets nearby.

"You seem like a black tea sort of person," Kamui muses, selecting two different boxes of tea and mulling over them. With his back turned, he doesn't see the surprised look Asra is sending his way.

"That's right," he says. While not particularly picky when it came to tea, he did have his preferences; smoked tea tended to be his default, something he hadn't even noticed until Muriel had pointed it out to him many years ago. He liked variety, doing his best to avoid doing the same thing twice in a row, so it hadn't even occured to him that he'd started favoring one blend over all the rest. But Muriel paid attention, more than Asra ever did.

Was that true of Kamui, as well? He couldn't recall drinking black tea in the man's presence, but maybe he'd simply forgotten.

Kamui glances back to his guest with a smile. "I do love it when I'm right," he says jovially. Then, with a bit of a jokingly severe expression, he adds, "And I'm _always_ right."

He looks to one of the boxes, nodding to himself before pulling out the other box and closing the cabinets. It gets set somewhere Asra can't see it, as Kamui busies himself with the kettle, relying completely on his magic every step of the way; from filling it with water, to bringing it to a boil.

"Hmm," Asra hums, deciding to humor him as he takes a seat at the low table, criss-crossing his legs. "If you know everything, then tell me how old I am."

Kamui chuckles to himself. "Eighteen is a bit young to be forgetting your own age, Asra," he says. The magician's casual smile falters. When had he ever said that? He must have, sometime at the masquerade. The night had played out in his head over and over ever since, but, he wasn't known for his good memory, and it was months ago, already.

Keeping a friendly tone, he says, "Then, how about my star sign?"

There's an amused expression on Kamui's face as he turns back around. "These questions aren't very taxing, my sweet little gemini."

Asra blinks, bewildered, before his mind catches up with him. It really shouldn't be so surprising; Kamui was a magician, asking him about astrology like he wouldn't know a thing was silly. That was easily something he could've just guessed based on stereotypes. It didn't mean anything.

The kettle starts to hiss, but for only a moment before Kamui cools it, grabbing two mugs from a nearby cabinet and carrying the whole thing over to the dining table. A clay mug painted in various shades of orange, pink, blue, and green is set in front of Asra, while a pure white porcelain mug is placed near a seat to his left, which Kamui perches elegantly atop. The man offers Asra a patient smile before reaching for the kettle.

"I hope this is okay," he says, pouring each of them a cup of tea. The scent of lapsang souchong hits Asra's nostrils, making his shoulders tense. He can feel Kamui's eyes on him, observant. Waiting eagerly for his verdict.

Wrapping his hands around the colorful mug, he uses a tiny fraction of his magic to cool it and avoid burning his skin. To avoid responding, he takes a slow sip of the tea; and his eyes go wide as the taste washes over his tongue, blended to perfection and with a slight tingling sensation that Asra could easily identify as magic. It wouldn't be hyberbolic to say it was the best tea he'd ever had. A victorious smile appears on Kamui's face, flashing pearly white teeth. The way it lights up his face is so distracting, Asra nearly ends up dribbling tea into his lap.

"I can see it in your eyes," Kamui celebrates, "Never a dissatisfied customer." Leaning his chin on one hand, he turns towards the counters, waving a hand and summoning a white cup from the countertops over to the table, before nudging it closer to Asra. "Sugar cubes," he explains. "I made them myself. Use as many as you like."

Violet eyes flicker carefully from the porcelain canister to Kamui's bright, scarlet eyes, before deciding to take him up on his offer. Plucking the lid free, he spots a pile of sugar cubes formed into the shape of hearts, stars, and crescent moons. Mostly hearts, he notices. Using his magic to pull several of the star-shaped ones closer, he mixes them into his tea, watching out of the corner of his eye as Kamui does the same, with a frankly absurd amount of the heart-shaped sugars.

As he mixes it in with his magic, a finger drawing circles in the air above his drink, Kamui leans on his free hand, watching the swirling liquid. "I like sweets," he comments, glancing, with a smile, over to Asra. "You're the same, aren't you?"

"Sure," Asra responds, eyes catching on the tea in Kamui's mug. It was easier to look at than the man himself, without feeling some sort of way. "Although I think you've got me beat." Kamui giggles at that.

They lapse into silence as they begin to drink their tea. Each sip was better than the last, and Asra did his best to savor it. It was leagues ahead of when he made it for himself, whenever he managed to acquire the proper ingredients for it. Maybe, before he left, he'd ask Kamui what he'd done to make it this way.

But for now, he settles on, "So, why black tea?"

"I just had a feeling," Kamui responds. "And my intuition has never been wrong."

"That's a powerful trait in a magician," Asra notes. "You're… very observant." Kamui flashes a pleased grin at Asra's assessment. "How did you guess I was a gemini?"

"Oh, you reek of one," Kamui says, very matter-of-factly. The look Asra gives him at that is particularly amusing to him, causing him to giggle behind a hand before he can compose himself enough to elaborate. "Your clothes are flashy yet easy to move around in, perfect for an adventurer, and you let a man whose name you didn't even know drag you around a palace all night. Am I wrong?"

When he put it like that, it made a lot more sense. "You're right," Asra says. A little belatedly, a smile tugs at his lips, and he adds, "As always."

The delighted smile he receives in return is absolutely dazzling—blinding, even. "Of course I am," Kamui brags. "You tried to scale the side of my building! And that's ignoring the fact that you dunked Count Lucio in the fountain. Did you see his makeup afterwards? _Disastrous_. It was glorious."

While Kamui chuckles at the memory, Asra leans forward on one hand, staring unabashedly at his exuberant expression. Everything about the man was beautiful. And way, way out of Asra's league, if he even qualified to be in a league. Yet for some reason, he was sitting here, in Kamui's _house_ , drinking tea with him.

"Hey," Kamui starts, snapping Asra out of his trance, "Can you guess what my star sign is?"

Asra glances up and down Kamui's frame, pondering. After a few moments of consideration, it hits him, glaringly obvious. "Scorpio," he responds. An impressed and pleased smile spreads across Kamui's rosy pink lips. With a soft fluttering of his lashes and a cute tilt of his head that makes it a little harder for Asra to breathe for just a moment, he says,

"Well, well. Show your work, Asra. What makes me a scorpio?"

"Scorpios are romantics," Asra says, holding steady under Kamui's unwavering, almost analytical gaze. He felt like everything about him was being laid bare before this man who was either far too observant, or far too good at guessing. "You're daring, intuitive, and bold."

Kamui smiles wide, pleased. Hands steepled beneath his chin, he leans in Asra's direction, lowering his voice to a near-whisper to say, "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

The proximity brings with it a burning sensation to Asra's cheeks. "I guess not," he manages to say, resisting the urge to lean away. Or forward. It was hard to tell which he wanted more.

With a charming smile, Kamui reaches for one of Asra's hands, turning it over and observing the lines of his palm. Asra freezes at the contact, heart thudding loudly in his ears. It wasn't normal for such physical affection to make him feel this way; not that it was all that hard to figure out why it did now. "Your hands are very soft," Kamui comments. "Your tent doesn't even have a bathroom. How are you this soft?"

"Magic," Asra responds. It isn't a joke, and it isn't delivered like one, either, causing Kamui to do a double-take at his expression.

"Seriously? I just use a lot of lotion. What spell is this? How long does it last?"

"It's more of a ritual. That is, it's permanent," Asra explains. The wide-eyed, awed look on Kamui's face only increases as he says that, immensely interested.

"How do you do it? Can we do it now? What do we need?"

The barrage of questions catches Asra a bit off guard, prompting a surprised chuckle that puts his erratically beating heart more at ease. "It's a little complicated," he says. "I've done a lot of body-altering magics, so I'm more experienced with it, but…"

The look in Kamui's eyes changes a bit at that. Belatedly, Asra realizes he should have expected it considering his choice of words. "Oh?" Kamui chuckles. "Body altering? I like the sound of that."

"I'm not surprised," Asra teases. The instant it leaves his mouth, he regrets it, uncertain on if they were really familiar enough to say something like that—but Kamui just laughs, playfully shoving Asra's arm.

"Shut up! I'm just saying, I'd love to spend less time applying product in the morning." Looking back down to Asra's hand, he traces one of the lines on his palm before curling Asra's hand around both of his, a hand sliding up over bronzed fingers. The warm feeling of Kamui's soft, smooth skin caressing his hand reminds him of a lot of things; silk sheets, expensive soaps, rose petals. He doesn't want it to stop. Despite the sight, he finds himself glancing frequently towards Kamui's collar and lips, mind beginning to wander.

"Oh, you know what?" Kamui starts, his tone suddenly much lower, strangely intimate. A pale fingertip glides over one of Asra's nails, petting the smooth surface. The next time he speaks, it's less conversational and more thinking out loud. "I think… mmm, maybe…"

Bemused, Asra just watches him, not terribly concerned about his intentions. He could do whatever he wanted. The movement of his hands are unhurried and gentle, yet firm, like a massage of some sort. Asra's mind drifts as he considers what Kamui's hands would feel like smoothing over his body instead, and the very vivid imagery associated with that has heat spreading all over his body.

A light trickling of magic sparks against his fingertip. It draws his attention to it, snapping him out of his dreamlike trance as he catches sight of the nail on his index finger, now painted a smooth blue-green gradient. Kamui is utterly focused on it for a moment, before raising his head with a small smile.

"Do you like it?" he asks. Before Asra can even formulate a response, he takes another look down at it, mumbling, "Wait, no. I can do much better."

The sparking, tingly feeling returns, but this time Asra watches the process, as Kamui drags a finger down his nail, eyes falling closed. The spell is performed slowly and deliberately. When he's done, he pulls his finger back, caressing Asra's hand while leaving the newly painted nail on full display. Rather than a simple gradient, it's sparkling, the glowing green a gentle, fluffy overlay on the deep midnight blue.

"There," Kamui says, satisfied. "Do you like it? It's like an aurora borealis, with lots of little stars."

Unable to tear his eyes away, Asra says, "It's beautiful." Glancing upwards, he finds an immensely pleased, prideful look on Kamui's face. Warmth spreads across his chest at the sight.

Kamui's eyes fall back down to Asra's hands, his expression turning simpering. "I'm not an artist, but I like doing makeup and nails and… things like that," he explains. He looks back up, smile vanishing. There's a look in his eyes that Asra doesn't recognize, but it makes him feel… something. He isn't sure what. "Looking at you makes me want to do so many things, to see you in this color or that color, a certain cut of dress or gem. That is to say, I think about you a lot, so, um…"

He seems uncharacteristically nervous as his eyes drop back down to Asra's hand, thumb brushing over his skin. Several moments pass in silence before he asks, "Do you want me to do the rest of your nails?"

"If you want to," Asra responds, a little curious as to what he'd been about to say before changing tacks. Kamui smiles warmly up at him before focusing immediately back on Asra's nails.

"I have an idea. I think you'll like it. Or, I hope you will."

  
  
  
  


Over the next several days, it takes all of Asra's willpower not to spend every waking moment staring at his nails, appreciating the artistry. All together, they formed a sky in metamorphosis, changing from blues and greens to pink and golds to pale blue and white. It was beautiful, although his bias for the artist who painted it, magically or not, might be swaying his opinion a little.

Muriel was quickly catching on to his newfound habit, giving him strange looks whenever he caught the magician looking over his nails again. Asra had never been one for vanity; he could appreciate aesthetics, but mostly he just liked decorating his body with things he found unique and interesting.

The nails, and the fact that he'd been casting spells on them to prevent them from chipping or fading--likely pointless, considering they were magic--must have seemed especially questionable to Muriel. It wasn't that he'd never painted his nails or his face; he just wasn't this obsessed with it.

He just wanted to preserve it, and appreciate it. He felt like Kamui deserved that much.

…And maybe the sight reminded him of the feel of Kamui's hands, in a way that kept him awake at night, tempted in ways he really shouldn't be. Not with Muriel around, anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

The shop doesn't look much different downstairs than it does upstairs—All cool colors and mystic imagery, with meticulously stocked inventory. There's a lot of rare materials that can't be found anywhere else in the city; of course, Asra's checked each one over the years. Many imported goods, or perhaps Kamui, and whoever else lives or works with him, travels a lot.

Other than Asra, there's a few people milling about, browsing. The front counter is unmanned, its owner nowhere in sight. Not wanting to draw any attention to himself, he casually browses, like he's not secretly hoping to capture Kamui's attention once he comes around. Sure, he's curious about the shop itself, but the thought that Kamui could be just around the corner is a lot more enticing.

He's looking over a section of crystal pendants when he notices a curtain parting out of the corner of his eye. Two people step out, one that Asra's never seen, and one the familiar red-and-white of Kamui, leaning on the frame of the archway. Ruby eyes catch on Asra, and he grins, more genuine than the polite and professional smile from moments prior.

Once the customer leaves, Kamui remains by the doorway to the backroom, arms and ankles crossed, gaze fixated entirely on Asra. Watching, waiting, an impish grin painted on his face. It's clear Kamui's attempting to get a rise out of him, and unfortunately, it's working. He can't be sure if he should just… waltz right over. So much time has passed since they've made eye contact that it would be weird—and Asra realizes belatedly that he didn't even smile back.

He doesn't need to agonize over his awkwardness for long, as he can feel cool hands sliding around his waist, grazing the bare skin beneath his vest. There's warmth at his back, all the way up his neck, and his body tenses. Soft hairs tickle his cheek as Kamui rests his chin on Asra's shoulder. He hadn't even heard him move.

"Do you like my pendants? I made them all myself," Kamui says, speaking in low tones that send shivers down Asra's spine. Heat emanates from him, lingering everywhere his hands touch.

When Asra doesn't respond, Kamui just keeps talking. "Are you interested in buying one?" One of his hands breaks away, lightly tapping a dual-toned crystal pendant. It takes far too long for Asra to recognize it as ametrine. "I recommend this one. Useful, and it would look nice on you, too." Perhaps for emphasis, he returns his hand to Asra's body, dragging a finger along his collar, where the pendant would sit. His pulse jumps at the contact.

Hyperaware of the setting, Asra spares a glance back over his shoulder, paranoid that someone might be looking at them. They weren't doing anything, not really, but Kamui being so close to him is nerve wracking enough without adding several witnesses into the mixture.

"Do you do this with all your customers?" he asks, forcing a humored tone, slotting a grin into place on his face; none of it feels natural, but it always works, anyway.

"Just the really cute ones," Kamui purrs. "Don't fret, angel. You're familiar with the Nevermind-Me spell, right?"

Looking down his own torso, Asra finds he can't quite locate Kamui's hands, despite feeling them, _plainly_ , along his skin.

A shuddering breath is forced out of Asra's throat as Kamui nuzzles against the crook of his neck, eyelashes brushing against his skin. "It's nice to see you again," he sighs, breath warm against Asra's flesh and sending a shiver down his spine. "Are you looking for something?" The shape of Kamui's smile can be felt against his nape. "Is it me…?"

Mouth drying out, Asra struggles to formulate a reply. Somewhere in the process, his mind blanks, and his tongue stops cooperating, and he says, "Bismuth."

The response generates a lull in conversation; presumably stunning Kamui into losing his train of thought. Asra curses internally. _Bismuth_? Why did he say that? He already has several of them. Before too long, Kamui says, "Oh, are you doing a lot of astral travel? Or is it for a spell?"

"...Yes," Asra drawls, before realizing those were _two_ questions, and quickly adding, "I'm trying to get deeper into the Arcana realm."

"Oh, I can help with that."

The warmth at Asra's back disappears, and his anxiety follows with it. The click of Kamui's heels grows softer as he heads for the front counter, with Asra following in his wake. The man's back is turned, digging through the cabinets behind the counter, giving Asra plenty of time to cool down as he leans on the glass countertop.

A glass box with a perfectly formed rainbow bismuth crystal inside is placed on the counter as Kamui turns back around, not even looking at Asra before going into a spiel about it. "This is the highest grade bismuth I currently have in stock. Homemade by a master magician," he looks up from the box, winking playfully. His fingertips, where his nails are painted red and decorated in glittering gold paint, turn the box around to display a price tag for Asra to see. Something must be showing on his face, because Kamui chuckles, leaning on one hand as he adds, "If you don't have the coin, I'll accept a trade."

That works a lot better, considering he usually kept his coin for vendors that absolutely wouldn't accept anything else; magicians could be so easily bribed with a few rare herbs, crystals, or anything fascinating enough to keep them entertained. Of the clutter inside Asra's bag… there's plenty to titillate Kamui's mystical interests.

"Okay," Asra says, reaching for his bag. "How about—"

"I'll accept a kiss."

Asra's hands falter, nearly breaking the snap on the front of his leather bag. All this time later, and he didn't even consider that being Kamui's goal. Looking up from his satchel, he sees the smug grin, the glint of mischief in his eye, and—his glossy lips, soft and inviting, parting slightly as one of his brows arcs, and his head is tilted, causing the curly strand that hung by his ear to fall forward enough to graze the corner of his mouth.

"Asra."

The sound of Kamui's voice breaks Asra's concentration. It occurs to him that he's been staring. "I…"

Kamui chuckles, his voice dipping a little deeper, and Asra's heart does a flip. His skin feels like it's burning. "I was kidding," Kamui says. His eyelids droop. "Unless you'd prefer I wasn't." At Asra's flustered reaction, he laughs again, leaning farther forward over the countertop. "Okay, I'm kidding. Really."

In the end, Kamui fawns over the items Asra offers him and a trade is bartered. The bismuth is slipped carefully into Asra's bag and he really can't leave fast enough, afterwards. The fluttering of his heart doesn't cease until long after he's left city limits, and he's stuck kneeling beneath a tree wondering when the part of his brain that handled social interaction broke.

He doesn't even need the metal. He has six of them in his possession already, all in varying sizes. Removing the item from his bag and holding it up in the light of the sun, he looks his new crystal over. It's the most flawlessly formed bismuth he's ever laid eyes on.

He goes back the next day.

There's no excuse to back out once he steps in to find Kamui at the front counter. The smile Kamui aims at him makes him feel softer than a human being should be capable of feeling, turned into a wobbling plate of gelatin as he nearly stumbles over the welcome mat.

"How's the astral projection going, Asra?" Kamui asks as Asra slides up to the counter, and a pale hand slides over to rest so close to Asra's own that it feels intentional.

Of course, it was perfect—Asra couldn't resist the chance to actually try it out the second he got back to the hut. A part of him had been buzzing with the desire to tell Kamui all about it, but now that he's actually here, he discovers all too many reasons why he can't do that, and the conversation heads elsewhere.

"Is there something you're trying to do? Or just exploring?"

Thinking fast, Asra says the first thing that comes to mind. "There's a few Arcana I've never been able to encounter."

"Oh? Who's the lucky Arcana that gets to meet you today?"

"Hmm… how about The Fool?"

He doesn't expect the less-than-entirely-graceful snort that comes out of Kamui in response. A pale hand is immediately up by his face to cover it up, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Oh, Asra," he starts, a bit pink in the face as he lowers his hand back down to where he's leaning on the counter. "The Fool can't be found. They find you, not the other way around. And you should be counting your lucky stars you _haven't_ met them, they're not the most ingratiating."

He chuckles, gaze drifting off towards something in the distance.

"Oh?" Asra asks, curious. "And how would I go about attracting them to visit me?"

Humming in thought, Kamui strokes his chin with one decorated nail—black with red glitter, this time—before stating, "I don't think you can, to be honest. In all my years, I've only ever felt like I understand less about them everytime I see them. I couldn't even tell you what they look like, it's never the same."

"Okay… how about a spell to take me directly to their realm?"

Kamui smiles.

That day, Asra leaves with a whole list of ingredients. In truth, he already knows how to reach The Fool's realm. Encountering it on purpose typically produces no results. You don't just _go_ there. You get lost and end up there.

The spell helps, though he doesn't really care. Just like he doesn't care about all the myrrh he ends up buying later on, or the sage, the crystals, the potions, the books, any of it.

What he cares about are the warm flutters in his chest whenever Kamui smiles at him, the jolt of adrenaline when Kamui touches his hand over the counter, when Kamui hooks his ankle around Asra's during a reading and leaves it there, like it's accidental, like neither of them notice, and touches Asra's hands at every possible opportunity. Kamui's readings are clearer than his own and it feels like the man can see right through him, like he doesn't even _need_ the cards.

His last visit to the shop was half an hour ago, and he's found a spot in the city's upper levels where very few people wander by. An aqueduct flows below the bridge he's seated himself along the railing of, toying with his magic as a meditative exercise so he doesn't return to the hut to Muriel giving him that _look_ again. That look that says _stop simping and ask him out already_.

In the middle of his practice, he decides to look over the book he bought earlier that day; Kamui told him it was rare, and it seems to be the truth, instead of just a sales pitch. A violet ribbon rests inside the tome, and it opens up into the middle, where a spell circle is drawn and then picked apart piece by piece in intricate detail.

But that isn't what catches his attention. The instant he opens the book, a slip of paper drifts out of it, fluttering down towards the water. Asra reacts quickly, capturing it in a gust of wind and bringing it up into his hand. There's writing on it in red ink, the script meticulous and flowing beautifully.

_There's a sale on pastries at the bakery in Goldgrave tomorrow. Thought you should know, in case you'd like to turn up purely coincidentally around noon and make eyes at me in better lighting. -Kamui♡_

Asra has to reread the message four times and even then it doesn't quite sink in. It's only towards the seventh that he registers his skin burning up, and his mind halts at the sudden conclusion that he's just been asked on a date. Though, that doesn't sound quite right—a _date?_ That word was never used, not specifically. But it feels impossible to imagine anything between them not having romantic, or, perhaps more accurately, sensual undertones, or _overtones_. Their tea time was fairly platonic, for the most part, but…

Their night together at the masquerade replays in his head like it was yesterday; he wants that again, craves the feeling it gave him. Goofing off with another magician, who also holds his hand and calls him 'kitten' and 'angel' and 'sweetheart'. Who lays his head on Asra's chest and _purrs_ like a contented feline. Just thinking about it sends his heart into a frenzy.

Will Kamui ever do that again? He's so soft, so warm, the perfect size to fit in Asra's arms. The thought of it makes him dizzy, floating into daydreams as he pictures the time they could be spending together.

The following day is relatively warm, as far as autumn in Vesuvia goes. There's a gold band around his neck, one of the most expensive items he owns, and his dress is elaborate in a way his ensembles always are, yet this time he's hoping to impress. It's not too much, or too obvious, or so he thinks. At least, it's enough to mill around Goldgrave, where the bystanders typically have _money_ , without appearing too out of place.

On his way out, Faust slithers up his sleeve, coiling loosely around his shoulders like a leathery scarf. " _Come with_ ," she chirps, nuzzling in against his neck. The feeling is ticklish, coaxing a few giggles out of her master.

"Alright, alright," Asra says, smiling as he reaches up to give her a few head rubs. As they step outside, Asra adds, "You're hoping to get a free treat, aren't you?"

" _Meet friend_ ," she responds.

"Kamui?" he asks, to which she headbutts his hand, silently requesting more pets. With a laugh, he obliges her. "Mmm, he _should_ get to know you, too. I hope he likes snakes…"

" _Dealbreaker_."

"You're right," he laughs. "It would be."

Arriving outside the only bakery in Goldgrave, he discovers he's far too early; the place isn't even open yet. Not wanting to miss anything, and with nothing else to do, he finds a nearby railing just thick enough to function as a seat, and perches atop it. The shape is fairly nice for reclining, with a nearby building to rest his back on. The book that essentially led him here is in his hands as he relaxes, an awning overhead blocking the sun from his eyes. The ambient noise fades into the background, easily ignored.

Which is why it's so startling when there's suddenly a voice directly to his left calling his name. He jolts, nearly dropping the book. Leaned against the railing and with a humored smile gracing pale, rosy lips, is Kamui. He leans closer, a hand raised to block the side of his mouth, and says, "I don't mean to alarm you, but there's a snake in your shirt."

Blinking to come out of his daze, Asra closes the book, tucking it back inside his bag. True to Kamui's word, Faust is hiding inside his shirt, her vivid scales visible beneath the loose collar. "Really?" he says, feigning ignorance as he smiles up at Kamui. "I hadn't noticed."

With a low chuckle, Kamui responds, "Well, it's a good thing you have me and my powers of observation, then." He pulls back a bit, holding up a pair of white and gold dessert boxes for Asra to see. "Want to share these cakes with me? I know a place we can go."

Asra slides smoothly to his feet. "You had me at cake," he quips, pleased when Kamui laughs in response. They step out onto the street together, and Kamui slides an arm around Asra's lower back. A warm feeling blooms in his chest as he looks down at Kamui, at his brilliant smile and alluring beauty. He always looks impeccable, and today is no exception. With him so close, Asra's not sure where to put his hands, wrapping both around the strap of his bag and praying it comes across as natural.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting," Kamui comments as they stroll down the street.

"For us to run into each other purely on accident?" Asra quips, finding it so much easier to smile when Kamui does it first, laughing at something he's said or grinning with delight. "I didn't really notice the time passing."

"That's good," Kamui says, making a point to smile dazzlingly up at Asra before facing forward again. "You look stunning today, by the way." After all the time Asra spent agonizing over what to wear, something he isn't about to freely admit lest he look desperate and overeager, it's nice to get some acknowledgement. The smile on Kamui's face grows as he adds, "Of course, you look amazing every day. Completely effortless."

"It's hardly effortless," Asra humbly dismisses, though Kamui just lets out a soft huff of amusement.

"Oh, isn't it always? It's the _impression_ of effortlessness that really sells it."

Together they head through the streets until reaching an alleyway; the area is closed off, though the gate hangs open and Kamui strides confidently through. Pale tables and chairs with violet cushions are arranged throughout like an outdoor dining area, dipping into an alcove inside the building to their left, yet no one is around.

"Do you know this place?" Kamui asks after leading them over to one of the tables inside the alcove. He sets the dessert boxes down, using his ankle to pull out a chair for Asra, which he takes, crossing his legs at the knee. The other chair is pulled over so they can sit side-by-side, and Kamui mirrors Asra's posture.

Asra nods. "This used to be a restaurant," he says, "But it went out of business years ago."

"Is that so? It's just always here whenever I walk by, and no one's chased me out yet," Kamui says.

Reaching for one of the boxes, he opens it up to reveal an arrangement of sweet treats, all divided by little strips of white cardboard. Mostly miniature cakes, but one section has an assortment of tiny cookies in various flavors. The other box is full of expensive-looking chocolates and candies; and also mini cakes. Everything looks highly elaborate and very expensive, like something the palace might serve its Count and Countess. Unfolding the boxes, Kamui sets everything out like a banquet table.

"I got a little of everything," Kamui explains, removing two pale gold spoons from his jacket pocket and handing one to Asra, which he accepts with a smile. "Don't worry about eating too much. Or too little."

Absolutely not a problem—The spread looks delicious and he can't wait to dig in. There's a cake in the middle he's got his sights set on; a round, gelatinous pastry that looks a bit like a jellyfish, with an almost iridescent sheen in shades of purple and aqua blue. The smile on Kamui's face grows when he dips his spoon into it, revealing a chocolate, cream, and blueberry interior.

"Thought you'd like that one," Kamui comments. He goes instead for a tiered pink cake with very detailed frosting roses. The treat oozes a pale pink syrupy substance when broken apart by the silverware. The moan Kamui makes at the taste of it toes the line of sensuality, though it's mostly muffled by his hand as he politely covers his mouth.

"It's _that_ good?" Asra laughs. Kamui hums in response, waiting until his mouth isn't full to respond.

"Perfectly fluffy, just the right consistency, and that _jelly_ , I don't even know how he does it. Magic can't reproduce this, or at least, mine can't, and I've _tried_ ," Kamui says with a wistful sigh. Gesturing with his spoon, he adds, "Come on, tell me what that mousse cake tastes like. Don't spare a single detail."

"You could try it yourself, too," Asra laughs, though he doesn't skimp on the details anyway.

While chatting about their tastes and anything else that comes to mind, they work through the pile of desserts, which Kamui appears to have an enormous appetite for. For someone so thin, he's impressively capable of shovelling sweets down his throat. The selection, which looks expensive even during a sale, feels a lot smaller with the way Kamui zips through it all. Somehow, he manages to look well mannered while he does it.

"Ooh, try this," Kamui says, holding his spoon up to Asra's mouth.

There's what looks like a small chunk of apple crumb cake on it. Asra lets out an amused huff, parting his lips and taking it into his mouth. The taste is a little unexpected; apples, yes, but there's a clear citrus taste to it as well. Fruit filling sticks to his lips and he runs his tongue along it, belatedly noticing the way Kamui's staring at his mouth. The realization makes his movements feel stilted and unnatural afterwards.

A low chuckle passes Kamui's closed lips. "Do you know what we call that?" he asks, drawing a circle in the air with the wet tip of the spoon. One of Asra's brows quirk.

"Apple-citrus crumb cake?"

"No," Kamui answers with a laugh. He rests his jaw on his free hand, eyes lidded as he gazes up at Asra. "In Sirenia, we call that an indirect kiss."

The insinuation warms Asra's face, much to Kamui's delight. Despite that, he maintains a casual smile and says, "Do you have _direct_ kisses in Sirenia?"

"Oh, no. We're all total prudes. I was a virgin birth."

They laugh, and Kamui reaches for something else; Asra is too busy studying the way Kamui's eyes crinkle when he laughs to pay attention. As the man turns back towards him, he snaps out of his daze.

"Try this, next," Kamui says, but when he goes to offer up his next treat, there's nothing but a thick dollop of cream on the tip of his finger. Violet eyes dart from the cream upwards, spotting Kamui's devious grin, the glint of challenge in his eyes.

Asra wets his lips and leans forward, before he can think too much about it. He takes Kamui's finger into his mouth, sucking the frosting off of it like he might on himself, only slower. Deliberate. It feels clumsy and strange, yet the look on Kamui's face after he pulls back is worth the dizzying rush of adrenaline; ruby eyes wide open, lips parted with shock, a noticeable dusting of pink across his cheeks. The look grows heated, his eyes lidding, lip tugged between his teeth. He doesn't pull his hand back, not right away.

"Wow," Kamui breathes, unable to tear his eyes away; except for the appreciative glance down Asra's chest, and a quick flick at their surroundings, as though someone might have been watching. Their gazes catch when he says, "You're full of surprises, aren't you, Asra?"

"I try to be." Truthfully, the act has left Asra so nervous his hands can't stop shaking. He thinks his knees might be trying to give out despite him sitting down, and it takes all his effort to look Kamui in the eyes.

"Good," Kamui chuckles. "I like that." Folding his hands beneath his chin, he tilts his head, peering up at Asra. For awhile, all they do is stare at each other. Scarlet eyes closely study his face, leaving him to wonder what Kamui sees there, what he's thinking. He doesn't dare ask. Instead, he watches Kamui's head tilt, the long strip of hair with red jewels braided into it slipping down past his shoulder.

And then their shared gaze breaks, as Kamui turns back to the desserts. He picks up one of the chocolates, all of which had gone untouched up to that point, and twirls it between his fingers. "Hmm… I'm not actually sure what all of these are filled with," he says. With a darling smile and a fluttering of his lashes, he asks, "Taste it for me?"

With a pretend put-upon sigh, Asra smirks and says, "Well, if I _must_ …" Giggling, Kamui presses the chocolate to Asra's lips, and he accepts it into his mouth, though he tastes the tip of Kamui's finger before it's pulled back. He doesn't notice that he's started leaning a lot closer towards Kamui's side of the table, nor that Kamui's done the same; he just eats the treat he's offered, and says, "Cherry."

"Ah, so that's what the red packaging is for."

He reaches for another, but Asra beats him to it. Snatching up one of the chocolates at random, he grins and presses the treat to Kamui's lips, which part preemptively out of surprise. Color stains his cheeks, and he meets Asra's eyes with a bit of a flustered look, clearly caught off guard. Though the advantage hardly lasts before a pale hand raises to loosely wrap around Asra's, and Kamui's gaze turns smouldering. He leans forward, taking the treat into his mouth along with part of Asra's fingers, tongue grazing his flesh and sending a prickling of heat over his skin.

"Mmm," Kamui sensually hums, chewing and swallowing the treat. Licking his lips, he presses Asra's hand against his cheek and says, "Orange. An underrated chocolate-covered delicacy, in my opinion." Turning his head, he presses his lips to the back of Asra's hand, lingering. One of Kamui's hands rests against his palm, the other trailing down his wrist, right over the rapid thrum of his pulse. The corners of his lips quirk up in a devious grin. "Are you nervous, darling?"

The word _yes_ is very loud in Asra's mind, to such a degree that a better, smoother, cooler answer is unable to present itself, and he just stares at their hands, finding eye contact to be too difficult.

"You don't have to be," Kamui continues. "Asra, you should know I just love to tease you. It's a little addicting…"

He releases Asra's hand afterwards, returning his attention to the dessert spread. Asra's quick to pull his hand back into his lap, though he's a little too stunned to be properly present to whatever Kamui says next.

 _Addicting_. That isn't a word that was ever used to describe him, and by someone like Kamui, no less.

Forcing himself out of his daze, he finds himself having to consciously unclench his jaw, swallowing thickly past a dry mouth. He feels a bit like he's vibrating. Maybe he's overreacting—he feels like he's overreacting. Compared to Kamui… though that's a bit unfair, the man clearly doesn't have trouble with stuff like this. He probably has people lined up around the block waiting for a chance to so much as talk to him.

Which is all the more reason to be nervous. Asra can't claim something like that. He's never really believed in "leagues", so to speak, until exactly right this second, and every other time Kamui's so much as looked at him.

Funny how that works.

Whatever words have been coming out of Kamui's mouth in the interim must not have been too important, as he doesn't seem bothered by Asra's lack of response; rather, he seems just as content as before while he leans against Asra's arm, hooking one of his around it and using the other to offer another chocolate treat to Asra. He tries not to act weird while accepting it. The fake smile and eloquence of his tone as he names the flavor seem to work; even on himself, feeling the casual ease become true the more he keeps it up.

"Okay, how about… Oh!" Kamui's perusal of the chocolate treats halts suddenly, jerking his hand back as he looks down towards Asra's lap. Faust is poking out of Asra's sash, her head brushing Kamui's thigh, though she quickly moves away at Kamui's startled reaction. They stare at each other. Kamui's eyes are wide and glimmering, lips parted.

"Oh, my," he breathes. "What a beautiful little darling you are." Encouraged by his kind words, she sticks her head out even farther, and Kamui holds out a hand for her to use to slither up his arm. "What's your name, angel?"

" _Faust!_ " she squeaks, although the sound is completely lost on Kamui, leaving Asra to translate for her. Awed, Kamui sticks out a finger, lightly dragging it along the top of Faust's head. She pushes up against it like a needy cat, her body coiling around his arm until she's not touching Asra at all. The affection has Kamui positively _melting_ , adoration dancing in his eyes as he continues to coo at her like one might a baby animal. Faust happily soaks up the attention.

"Are you Asra's familiar?" Kamui asks, looking exclusively to Faust despite it being Asra who has to answer for her. It's endearing, and Asra can't help but smile, not even noticing when he leans his head on Kamui's shoulder. It just feels natural, the way he angles his body towards Kamui, leaning on him as they shower Faust with attention.

"She is," Asra responds. Looking up, he distinctly notices the change in Kamui's expression as he says that; though he isn't sure how to read what he sees in Kamui's eyes.

"Asra, she's beautiful. And so affectionate," Kamui says, giggling as Faust curls her head beneath his palm, tilted all the way back to make sure he continues touching her. "Does she like me?"

" _Like!_ " Faust parrots.

Smirking, Asra says, "I think so. But she likes anyone who gives her this much attention."

"I'll give her as much attention as she wants," Kamui says. With his other hand, he rubs under her chin, and she tilts her head back as far as it can go. "You deserve it, don't you, little angel baby?"

" _Am baby!_ " Faust proudly declares.

With a fond smile, Kamui reaches for his spoon, and after cleaning the frosting from it with his mouth he uses it to cut open one of the pastries they hadn't touched yet. A crumbly brown filling comes out, and Kamui scoops up a small amount before offering it to Faust for inspection. Her tongue flicks out across it as Kamui tells Asra, "It's a meat pie. Is that okay?"

"It's fine, but don't spoil her too much," Asra cautions.

"Of course. I just want her to feel included," Kamui explains. As Faust gobbles up the chunk of meat on Kamui's spoon, he laughs, and goes to grab more. "Meat pies aren't really my favorite. I only asked for some to give to her, since I saw her with you."

In total, he only offers her three spoonfuls before cutting her off. After that, they decide they're too stuffed to continue eating.

But before they can start to pack up, Kamui turns, wrapping the arm farthest from Asra around the side of his head, hand in his hair, to press a slow, lingering kiss to his forehead. The circle of Kamui's arm leaves Asra feeling so warm, so comfortable, that he never wants it to end—Kamui smells lovely, like vanilla and cinnamon, and his aquiline nose pressing into the bridge of Asra's after his lips part leaves a simultaneously pleasant but painful flooding into his chest. He wants to close his eyes, to lean closer, to lay here for hours.

But of course it only actually lasts a few seconds, leaving him wanting so much more. The urge to reach out and grab him, to pull him back so they can hold each other for much longer, minutes, hours, even, is palpable.

But the moment passes, and Kamui is already neatly sorting out their leftovers into two boxes, one of which he hands off to Asra, the other he keeps to himself. Faust follows along their arms as the exchange is made, returning to her master's shoulders. As he stands, Kamui holds out a hand to help Asra up.

"I liked this," Kamui says, not letting go even after Asra's back on his feet. "It's nice, spending time with you without a shop counter in between us." He curls his fingers into the space between Asra's. His hand is longer and slimmer, but it feels like it fits so perfectly in Asra's grasp anyway.

The feeling in his chest _hurts_ with the desire to pull him closer. To be bold for just one moment and seek what he craves so desperately, but instead, he remains still, letting Kamui lead everything.

"Unfortunately, I have to go, now. No rest for the wicked and all that," Kamui continues. He takes a step closer, leaning up to kiss Asra's cheek. Their faces are close, eyes catching, though Asra's vision grows a bit dizzy as his brain short circuits, rerouting all mental energy towards imagining what it would be like if he just leaned in and kissed him. "Let's go out again sometime. And bring Faust with you, okay?"

"Of course," Asra reflexively says. With a smile, Kamui takes a step back, winking as he turns and disappears around the corner. Leather brushes past Asra's neck, and he looks down to see Faust moving closer towards where Kamui once was. Underneath all of Asra's own feelings of longing, he can sense that Faust misses him, too.

" _Like him_ ," she declares. An amused, and slightly nervous, puff of air passes Asra's lips.

"Yeah," he says. "Me too, Faust."

Before heading out, he checks inside the box; the meat pie and all the lemon-flavored candies were left behind, alongside everything Asra said he enjoyed the most. For Kamui to call himself observant is correct—and Muriel is going to be _really_ happy once Asra gets back with all these candies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me writing this chapter: don't call asra a simp. don't call asra a simp. don't call asra a s—failed step one
> 
> comments are always appreciated <3 let me know what you thought !!

**Author's Note:**

> https://koteosa.carrd.co/


End file.
